CHAPTER TWO — THE MISSING SACK

Mara decided not to tell anyone in the village.

If someone was stealing food during a famine, accusations could turn dangerous.

Instead, she began watching.

Before bed, she swept the floor around the corn bin.

Then she scattered a thin layer of flour near the door.

If someone entered during the night, they would leave footprints.

She also tied a small piece of red thread around the latch.

The next morning, the thread was broken.

Mara’s heart began pounding.

She opened the door.

There were footprints.

Small ones.

Not a man’s.

Not her father’s.

Someone had entered during the night.

Mara followed the footprints outside.

They disappeared beneath fresh snow.

She returned to the house and said nothing.

That evening, she prepared a trap.

She placed the corn bin directly beneath the small kitchen window.

Then she pretended to go to sleep.

Hours passed.

The fire died.

The house became silent.

Mara lay beneath her blanket with her eyes open.

Then—

Scratch.

She heard something outside.

Another sound.

Scratch… scratch.

Mara slowly got out of bed.

She moved toward the kitchen.

A shadow passed across the window.

She grabbed the lantern.

The window opened.

A hand reached inside.

Mara shouted.

“WHO ARE YOU?”

The figure jumped back.

A child.

A thin boy wearing a coat far too large for him.

He ran.

Mara chased him through the snow.

“Stop!”

The boy slipped.

Mara caught up and grabbed his arm.

He struggled.

“Please!”

Mara stopped.

The boy’s face was pale.

His lips were blue.

He couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

“Why are you stealing our corn?”

The boy stared at her.

“I wasn’t stealing.”

“You broke into our house.”

“I only took what was falling.”

Mara looked confused.

“What?”

The boy pointed toward the ground.

Behind the barn was a narrow path.

There, half buried in snow, were dozens of corn kernels.

Mara followed the trail.

It led to an abandoned shed.

Inside were three children.

Two girls and a little boy.

They were huddled beneath torn blankets.

A cracked pot sat beside them.

There was no food.

Mara looked at the boy.

“Where are your parents?”

He lowered his head.

“They went to find work before the snow came.”

“And they haven’t returned?”

The boy shook his head.

Mara understood.

Her anger disappeared.

But another question remained.

If these children had taken some corn…

why was so much more missing?